The tale of that heroic defence has been so told that it need assuredly never, while the world lasts, be told again.  Suffice it then that despite the falseness of its governor, the weakness of its walls, the lack of any military training on the part of its defenders; despite the treacherous dismissal of the first ships sent to its assistance; despite the long agony of seeing other ships containing provisions hanging inertly at the mouth of the bay; despite shot and shell without, and famine in its most grisly forms within—­despite all this the little garrison held gallantly on to the “last ounce of horse-flesh and the last pinch of corn.”  At length, upon the 105th day of the siege, three ships, under Kirke’s command, broke through the boom in the channel, and brought their freights in safety to the starved and ghastly defenders, gathered like ghosts, rather than human beings, upon the quay.  Three days later De Rosen broke up his camp, and moved off in disgust, leaving behind him the little city, exhausted but triumphant, having saved the honour of its walls, and won itself imperishable fame.

While all this was going on in the north, James, in Dublin, had been busily employed in deluging the country with base money to supply his own necessities, with the natural result of ruining all who were forced to accept it.  At the same time the Parliament under his nominal superintendence had settled down to the congenial task of reversing most of the earlier Acts, and putting everything upon an entirely new footing.  It was a Parliament composed, as was natural, almost wholly of Roman Catholics, only six Protestants having been returned.  Its first task was to repeal Poynings Act, the Act, which, it will be remembered, was passed in Henry VII.’s reign, binding it independence upon the English Parliament.  Its next to establish freedom of worship, giving the Roman Catholic tithes to the priests.  So far no objections could reasonably be raised.  Next, however, followed the question of forfeitures.  The hated Act of Settlement, upon which all property in Ireland was now based, was set aside, and it was setted that all lands should revert to their former proprietors.  Then followed the punishment of the political adversaries.  “The hugest Bill of attainder,” says Mr. Green, “the world has seen,” was hastily drawn up and passed.  By its provisions over 2,240 persons were attained, and everything that they possessed vested in the king.  Many so attained were either women or young children, indeed a large proportion of the names seem to have been inserted at haphazard or from some merely momentary feeling of anger or vindictiveness.